


I'm Sorry, Sam

by SardonicShipper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Depressing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SardonicShipper/pseuds/SardonicShipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam are back together. Dean is sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Sorry, Sam

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after "Torn and Frayed."
> 
> Not a happy story. At all. I wrote it because of whatever that episode was supposed to be. This is not happy. There is depression and character death and angst. It's also not very good, so you have my apologies in advance.

_I'm sorry, Sam._

They were on a hunt in Birmingham, dealing with spirits fighting over college football. Suckers had been on ice for 60 years and still never missed a year to literally raise hell for their colors. Least they had a reason for being - can't argue with that.

Dean knew he should've let Sam take the lead. Sam was younger, stronger, faster, tougher. Dean was just being a bitch, and it'd almost gotten them killed. He had the kill shot, the moment, and he froze. He was too fat, weak, old, stupid. Blind luck can't carry you forever.  

"This can't happen again, Dean," Sam sighed when they were patching themselves up back at the rat trap. Sighed with that look of pure disappointment, with a twinge of pity. Looked so familar to Dean. So familiar he just hoped Sam hadn't seen him wince.

_I'm sorry, Sam._

Dean never had been able to strike up a great intellectual discourse with Kevin. Dude was a brainiac. Dean was a dumbass, a high school dropout whose biggest light bulb moment had been realizing that tearing bottlecaps off with his teeth was a really fucking bad idea.

Sam was smart. Sam had always been smart. If not for his sorry excuse for a brother and a dad, Sam would've been President or something. Dean knew it.  

He hadn't meant to piss Kevin off. It was a joke about Mr. Wizard. Nothing bad about Mr. Wizard. But Kevin had looked up from his papers, all quiet fury, all disgust, like Dean was shit on his shoe. And honestly he probably was. 

It just took up time they didn't have. Kevin had no reason to speak to him. He'd tried to kill the kid's mom, for fuck's sake.

From that day on Dean let Sam ask all the questions, do the talking. Not just with Kevin. With everyone. Sam was better at it. 

"Dean? Do you know what you're saying?"

Course he did. Dean wasn't a dumbass all the time. Just maybe 99%. 

_I'm sorry, Sam._

Benny had always been trouble. Nice guy, but he was a vamp. Vamps aren't your pals. You don't drink beer with vamps - they drink you.  Dean had no idea why he'd forgotten that simple fact. Dean figured he'd been having a mid-life crisis, like the head shrinkers on TV called it.

Sam had been right to suggest the takedown. Dean was surprised it'd taken him so long, really. 

"This should be mine, Dean. For Martin." 

Dean swallowed. He wasn't gonna fight. Too much fighting already. Too much pain. Too much bullshit clogging up his head. 

"But he was your...friend. I know that's important to you." 

When they finally tracked Benny, somewhere up in the wilds of North Dakota, fangface didn't even have the decency to wipe the blood off his mouth. 

Benny seemed almost relieved when the machete kissed him goodbye.

_I'm sorry, Sam._

Cas.

Killing Cas hurt.

Dean wasn't sure why. Cas was a monster. Angels were monsters.

Maybe Dean never could forget the way Cas used to look at him. Like he wasn't worthless. Like he had a reason for being on this planet other than screwing up.

Cas hadn't looked at him that way in a long time. Cas had been gone a long time. If he'd ever been there at all. Deep down Dean had known all along that the hero worship and the lingering glances had just been a lie, a con. That's what angels did. They lied and they hurt and they killed, all while pretending they were superior. What the fuck would Cas have ever seen in him? 

Cas had begged Sam to do it, not to make Dean go through something like killing him. Maybe that was fitting after all the pain he'd caused Sam, breaking his brain, opening Purgatory, using him to start the apocalypse. But Dean had to do it. He'd brought Cas into their lives. Had to take him out. Should've done it years ago. For both their sakes. And he knew it was right. Knew he owed Cas this, even if all that friendship, that...love...had been a lie. A cosmic joke. He'd still given Dean a reason to get out of bed, for a while. Nothing lasts forever.

Dean's hand shook. Weak. Stupid. He couldn't even do this right. He couldn't look Cas in the eyes. If he did he'd plunge the blade in himself right after Cas was gone.

Sam cried when Dean stuck the blade in Cas. Sam was always nice like that. Big heart. 

Dean hated himself for bringing Cas into their lives. For being a bad brother. For making Sam cry. 

He wanted to tell Sam how lucky Cas was, that he'd never feel hurt again, that he'd never hurt them again, but he never knew what to say. 

Instead, he held Sam in his arms. He couldn't cry. He'd never let himself cry again. He had to be strong for Sam.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered, over and over, staring at his reflection in the mirror. 

At nothing.

_I'm sorry, Sam._

Days bled into weeks, months, years. Dean stopped keeping track. He'd probably been to every city in every state two, three times. Everything looked the same, tasted the same, stunk the same. Eat, sleep, drink, shit. Dean could handle that. 

Dean mostly stayed in his own room when they weren't on hunts. Let Sam have his own space. Always something good on TV, background noise at least. He kept it on all the time, like his own personal alarm clock. And when he had nightmares, they were a little more likely to be about one of those plastic housewives and less about Benny or Cas or Jo or Mom or Dad or Ellen or Bobby or Sam or everyone else he'd failed.

Dean had never really forgot how he was around Dad. Let Dad make the decisions. Don't speak until you're spoken to. Don't fuck up. All that endless energy was long gone, but Dean knew he'd wasted a lot of that on booze and sex and being a smug jackass. All that was gone now. He knew what he was good at - killing, and following orders. He did his best to do Sam proud the way he'd let Dad down. He wasn't gonna let Sam die like he'd let Dad die.

Sometimes when he closed his eyes and opened them too fast, he saw Dad in Sam's place. He never told Sam that, but it wasn't all bad. Maybe now he could be the brother he was supposed to be, better than the son he'd failed to be. He had a second chance. 

One night they were in the Impala, Sam driving, like he usually did now, Dean just trying not to get in the way. The radio stayed off, like it usually did now.

"Dean, I never wanted it to be like this for us. I never..."

Dean could hear Sam crying, even if he couldn't bear to look at him. He blindly reached a hand over, tried to squeeze Sam's shoulder.

"We don't have anybody else, Sammy. We just gotta keep going. You know what you're doing. Long as I can stay outta your way we'll be fine." 

Sam didn't say anything else for the rest of the trip. Dean knew he'd hurt his brother again. Let him down again.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean whispered. And he was.

 


End file.
